Spring on the Farm

Small Peter keeps a secret well,
For he is not yet three;
So Grandma takes him for a walk
To see what they can see….
A robin pecking, hopefully,
Along a pavement’s edge,
New leaves the peep from stiff
Brown stems of a barberry hedge,
A park squirrel begging to be fed,
A row of tulips, white and red.
but as they talk and walk along,
Grandma tells Peterkins
Just how a real spring begins:
“There’s dogwood all along the bluff,
And redbud in the hollows,
And orioles in the hollows,
And barn’s alive with swallows!
And new-born lambs bleat plaintively
Upon the meadow air, and clucking hens
And baby chicks are everywhere.
My, how a heart does life and sing!
Don’t tell a soul!” She warns.
“But, oh, I’m homesick for a real spring!”
And Peter never breathes a word
Of anything that he has heard.

ST. JOSEPH MAGAZINE